pursuit of happiness
by wellthatdepends
Summary: Maybe he wants it to be real.


Peter Prentiss' Halloween party promises to be a 'brotastic' night.

Frankly, Jeremy doesn't know what that means.

Frankly, Jeremy doesn't know what any of it means.

But he dons a costume and hopes that they'll be some moderately attractive women in attendance and he can, quite possibly, begin to get his groove back.

* * *

Mindy intends to 'slut it up' this year.

How he knows that? She burst into his office at every opportunity, asking his opinion.

"What do you think of slutty Miley Cyrus?" Mindy asks, in the break room, to everyone in attendance.

"How is that different to current Miley Cyrus?" Jeremy replies. Danny mutters to himself in the corner, shaking his head.

"Go with something funny, Doctor L," Morgan pleads, "don't stoop to that level, I'm begging you!"

"Okay, first of all, remember how hard it was last year for me to find a funny costume that was still bangable?"

"Hear you, sister." Bevery nods in agreement.

"Okay, ew. And secondly, I'm single this year, I'm going to what is essentially a grown-up frat party, and I would like to boost my self-esteem."

"Got it," Tamra sings, "just throw on some sexy lingerie, call yourself a porn star and then they're all gonna want a piece. That always works with Ray-Ron."

Mindy appears to be pondering it. Danny looks like he wants to bang his head against the wall.

"Doctor L, I don't think that's a great idea-" Betsy begins, before getting cut off.

"Shush, Betsy. I need to run to Victoria's Secret, like, now."

She's out the room before Danny can even scold her about upcoming patients and the overwhelming sense of dread and urge to eat shredded cheese kicks in, right on schedule.

* * *

He's been working hard these last couple of months.

Really hard. On both the practice and himself. Betsy's not wrong about his lack of dating. Maggie was his first real relationship in America and even he can recognise that it wasn't really much of a relationship, not really. It was fun and easy and convenient and at the end of the day, they didn't have much in common. She wanted a husband and kids and all that crap and he just wasn't the dude for that. Her words entirely.

So he gained a few kilos, what's the big deal? He'd been pouring so much time and effort into the practice that he'd started stress eating. However, Jeremy was determined to become the carefree cad he'd always prided himself on being. Mindy was back, Danny had broken up with Christina, Peter was…Peter. He'd been able to loosen the reins and kick his fitness regime back into gear. He wasn't at his goal yet, but he was getting there.

And he'd been on some very successful dates, thank you very much.

There was only one thing standing in his way.

And her name was Betsy Putch.

* * *

When the dreams started, they were innocent enough. Short skirts and pink, pouty lips, late nights at work and he would push her against the wall and kiss her senseless, her delightful whimpers and moans fuelling fantasies and resulting in cold showers the next morning and a lack of eye contact at work.

But they slowly got more and more detailed. He was the hunter, she was the prey and in this scenario, he would lay her down and ravage her until she cried out his name. Or the regency fantasy would make an appearance; he the handsome Count and she his ward, educating her on the ways of carnal pleasures.

He'd wake up hard and guilty. She deserved better than this, even in his mind.

The thing about fantasies; the longer you allow them to play out; the more you desire to make them a reality.

"Ask her out, or I will, bro."

Peter tends to sneak up on him, which is ridiculous as the man is as subtle as paisley. But there he is, around every corner, munching on some sort of snack, and trying to give him life advice.

"Ask out who?"

"Betsy, man," Peter smirks, watching the young receptionist file, biting her bottom lip in concentration, "girl is straight up wife material. Hot, but not the kind of hot that you have to worry about her around other dudes. Sweet and kind and, man, you know she's gonna give you 2.5 kids and the whole American dream."

"I'm British," Jeremy reminds him absently.

"Everyone wants the American dream, bro. I mean, look at Hugh Heffner."

Jeremy declares his argument invalid, but that doesn't stop him from worrying just the slightest.

* * *

If he's learnt anything from his time in this country, it's that women love the whole Mr Darcy act. Love it a lot.

They might have shook off their imperialist predecessors centuries ago, but it doesn't mean they don't want to fuck them.

So, he chooses Halloween to play up his nationalism; buys the costume, polishes his boots, and practices looking caddish in his bathroom mirror.

The party, however, is kind of an 'all bro' affair. Peter is a popular guy…among other guys. On the plus side, the women are ex-sorority members who never realised that college is just a four year stint. The costumes are revealing and, if Mindy did go the porn star route, she would not be out of place.

"Doctor Reed!"

Tamra, standing with a man he assumes is Ray-Ron, waves him over.

"Girl, you look faaaab."

"Okay, Tamra, please don't call me girl, but thank you. You are dressed as…"

He pauses, trying to work out her costume that resembles something Betsy would wear to work.

"A white girl, duh!"

"Oh, great," he forces a smile, distracted by Danny, who marches over, in a huff.

"Okay, guys, I am not on Betsy patrol tonight. I refuse to be that guy, okay?

"Betsy patrol?" Jeremy asks, confused.

"Girl got the wrong costume, Doc," Tamra explains, "she wanted to go as Snow White from that TV show, but, well, see for yourself."

Jeremy looks over to where Morgan is trying to, albeit valiantly, discretely ward off a bunch of frat guys trying to put the moves on a sweetly confused Betsy. Indeed her costume is something out of a storybook…if the storybook was for adult reading. The bodice is too tight, the waist too cinched, creating a tempting hourglass silhouette. Hair piled on her head, lips a ruby red and her eyes wide in confusion, she looks the part of a lost little lamb.

A little lamb ready for the taking.

"I'll handle this," he says smoothly.

"I thought this was your big 'coming out'?" Tamra asks, confused.

"Okay, Tamra, again, I'm not gay," Jeremy sighs, "and someone needs to protect her tonight."

"And that's going to be you?" Danny asks, suspiciously. And rightly so.

"Yeah," Jeremy sighs, wondering for the hundredth time this week, how his life had come to this.

* * *

"Thank you so much, Doctor Reed," Betsy says, breathless, grasping his arm tightly, "I can't believe the website made a mistake like this! And I didn't think it was too bad at first. I mean, the elderly man next door seemed to think it was okay…"

"Don't talk to him again, okay Betsy?" Jeremy says sternly, "Never, ever, again."

"What about when he needs help getting out of the bath again? He's just so old!"

"Never!"

Betsy isn't the worst company. She's so nice and optimistic and even when men start cracking onto her in front of him, she just doesn't pick up on the signs. It's only when Jeremy tightens his grip on her waist that they get the message.

"Doctor Reed?" she asks curiously.

"Oh, sorry," he apologises, not sorry in the slightest, "I thought you were going to fall."

Her giggles are simply music to his ears.

However, his night takes a turn when he spies Mindy entering the apartment. With Maggie at her side.

"Shit," he curses, rolling his eyes heavenwards. Of course this would happen to him.

"Doctor Reed?"

"Okay, Betsy," Jeremy turns to face her, grasping her shoulders, "I need you to do three things for me. Firstly, I need you to stop calling me Doctor Reed. And I need you to pretend to be my girlfriend for the evening."

"Um," she bites her lip, "what's the third thing?"

"I need you to kiss me."

He doesn't give her a chance to respond before he pulls her into a kiss. It starts off chaste enough, merely the briefest of contact. Her eyes hold a dazed expression and he leans in again, arms tightening around her waist, pulling her flush against him. A brief gasp escapes her lips, which only spurs him on, capturing her lips with his, the pressure building until she whimpers, allowing him the opportunity to deepen it even further. Her arms wind around his neck and it's only when he breaks away, breathless and rests his forehead against hers, that he realises how truly tiny, how truly delicate, she actually is.

"Betsy –" he murmurs, but is cut off by a shrill, all too familiar voice.

"Oh my god, Jeremy?!"

Spinning around, half shielding, half hiding Betsy, he faces the hurricane that is Mindy.

"Hello Mindy," he says casually, sparing a glance at Maggie, "oh, Maggie. Hello. It is good to see you again. I trust you are well?"

"Why are you kissing Betsy?" Mindy demands, glaring daggers, "Betsy, why are you kissing him back? Did he coerce you into doing this? Are you drunk? Drugged? Hypnotised? Is there a magician at this party?"

"Of course I didn't bloody well coerce her, Mindy," Jeremy snaps, indignant, "I am not some kind of rake!"

"You see, Doctor L," Betsy pauses and Jeremy can feel himself holding his breath, as her eyes dart from a furious Mindy to a wary Maggie, "Doctor Reed – Jeremy and I are dating."

"You're what?" Mindy screeches, and the party comes to a halt.

Thankfully, Peter comes to his rescue.

"Don't worry, bros, just my dramatic co-worker. Keep that music cranking!"

Placing his arm around Betsy, Jeremy fixes Mindy with a hard stare.

"Yes, we're dating. We've been keeping it a secret because, well -"

"I didn't want to get in trouble," Betsy interrupts, looking up at him, eyes uncertain.

"I didn't want people to think I was getting special treatment or anything because I was dating my boss."

He wants to kiss her again; she's so believable, with her wide eyes and trembling bottom lip.

Mindy frowns, harrumphing until a cute guy catches her eye and she excuses herself to get a drink, promising to lecture them again later.

"I'm just going to find the bathroom," Betsy murmurs. Grasping her chin, he places a gentle kiss on her lips.

"Hurry back, my love."

It's too easy, too natural. It's too frightening.

* * *

Maggie corners him later that night.

It's her forte, he thinks. Trapping him in conversation. It's what made him take notice of her in the first place.

"I'm not surprised, you know," she nudges him, watching him watch Betsy as she talks with Beverly and Tamra a safe distance away.

"I could tell there was always a spark between you two. She's nothing like your usual type."

"You were nothing like my usual type," he reminds her, and she chuckles.

"I made you see that you don't need a type," she smirks, "I'm sure supermodels are good and all, but can you have a conversation? Can you enjoy the same activities? Betsy's a sweet girl, with a passion for life and minus the jaded cynicism that most of us have. Frankly, she could do way better than your sorry ass."

Jeremy smirks.

"I have no doubt that she can."

* * *

The night is young, only 9.30, and with a glass whiskey in hand, he wonders if this is what falling in love feels like – his heart threatening to explode in his chest every time she looks his way.

Warding off frat guys is easier when he can come right out and declare himself as her boyfriend. He grows used to her soft hand in his, her sweet, delectable kisses. It's easy to forget that this is all just for show.

And it isn't hard to realise that maybe he doesn't want it to be for show. Maybe he wants it to be real.

"Hi," she says shyly, coming to stand beside him, keeping some distance between them. Her cheeks are flushed from the alcohol and a few loose curls have fallen from her up-do, delicately framing her face.

She looks so bloody perfect.

"Hi," he murmurs, pushing several strands of hair behind her ear.

Nervously, she smiles.

"This feels so real."

He's almost stunned at the way she's summarised everything he's feeling about this night, about them.

"It could be," he smiles seductively, "at least for tonight."

Eyes wide, Betsy looks around nervously, as if he might be speaking to someone else. Seeing only Peter's 'bros', she bites her lip, blinking several times.

"Tonight?" she whispers, barely audible over the music and he thinks that maybe he might be in a dream.

"Let's go," he grabs her by the hand, guiding her towards the door, not bothering to say any goodbyes. If he did, he would have seen the furious glares of both Danny Castellano and Mindy Lahiri and maybe he would have an idea of what might come.

* * *

Her apartment is small, the top storey of a five-storey walk up, on the outskirts of a bad neighbourhood. The floorboards show wear, but she covers it up with colourful rugs, much like the paint-peeling walls that she has eclectically decorated. It's here that he remembers that she is 25, that she earns enough to get by, and, like that of her generation, is probably still trying to figure life out.

Carefully, she hangs up her coat, and his, places her bag on a small table by the door. He allows himself to wander, brushing his hand over the crocheted blanket draped over her second hand couch, the table lamp with its tacky dangling crystals. He spies her turtle, in his small terrarium, and he lightly taps the glass, smiling fondly.

Betsy stands awkwardly near the door.

"It's a mess, I know," she says breathlessly, "I wasn't expecting company and I know that it's not much compared to your apartment-"

"Hey," he grins, "you should have seen my first share-house at university. Never room with four blokes. I learnt that the hard way."

She laughs, walking further into the apartment.

"Do you want me to make you a coffee? Tea? Hot chocolate?"

Instead, he grabs her by the wrist, pulling her towards him. Cupping her chin, he shakes his head.

"I just want you."

Hesitantly, she makes the first move, stretching up on her tiptoes to bestow on him a gentle kiss. Hers are soft and as he parts her lips with his tongue, she tastes like the sweet wine she'd been sipping on all evening. It's heaven, as her tiny whimpers vibrate in his throat, enriching his senses and filling him with a need he didn't know was possible. Tangling his hands through her hair, he sweeps the bobby pins out, clattering to the floor as her hair tumbles across her shoulders.

"God, Betsy, you are so beautiful."

And she is, with her shy, bright smile and bruised lips and her hooded, dark blue eyes.

"Really?"

He knows she's not fishing for compliments. So sweet and naïve and in this moment, he wants to show her the world.

"Let me show you."

It's not hard to navigate the two of them through her apartment, even when his lips are on hers and her small hands are tugging on his hair. He works fervently on the laces of her dress and he feels her small, nimble fingers, trying to undo the buttons of his shirt. He assists, shrugging out of his shirt and pushing the top of the dress down her shoulders, letting it pool on the ground.

And she's even more perfect than he thought.

She's gentle curves and skin so soft; he could spend hours touching it. Her underwear is simple; white cotton and matching and, fuck, if it isn't the hottest thing he's ever seen. He drinks her in as her shaking hands come to rest on the top button of his trousers. There's a glint in her eyes that he recognises as panic.

"I'm not good at this," she murmurs.

"Buttons?" he teases, stroking her hip gently.

"No," she bites her lip nervously, "this."

Of course. Of course he should have assumed that her experience would be…lacking. Not that it's a bad thing, he reminds himself quickly; the flush on her cheeks is almost virginal and he'd be lying if he said that wasn't a fantasy that had haunted his dreams of late.

"You have…" he lets the sentence trail off, far too British to ask outright. Thankfully, she nods quickly, a blush gracing her features.

"Twice," she admits, wringing her hands, "Once with a boyfriend who later came out as gay, and then with a boyfriend who left me for theology school. They weren't…great experiences."

A part of him is overjoyed at this information. The opportunity to teach her, to show her what true pleasure feels like. To make her body come alive with sensations. To give her something no other man had ever given her before.

But there's another part of him. The honourable part. The part where he puts the brakes on the whole matter because it shouldn't be like this, a quick fuck in the dark. Not for her. Not when she deserves so much more.

"Betsy-"

Instead, he's interrupted by a loud banging at the door.

* * *

"You said you weren't expecting company?" he asks her, confused. She shakes her head, looking slightly frightened.

He does a quick search for any usable weapons. Spying a tennis racket, he decides that will do, and heads, bare-chested, to the apartment door.

"Stay here," he calls over his shoulder.

Through the peep-hole, his pounding heart returns to normal as he sees that it's just Danny and Mindy.

"Hi guys-" he greets them as he opens the door, but is met with Danny, pushing him into the wall, his forearm cutting off his air supply.

"You've done a lot of shifty things, Reed, but this takes the fucking cake!" Danny shouts, leaning into him further.

"Yeah!" Mindy exclaims, "Just because the movies say it's alright, doesn't mean it is! You can't woo her and dump her, Jeremy. She's not equipped to deal with that!"

"What's going on?" from her bedroom door, Betsy stands, donned in his shirt that she's hastily buttoned up, "Doctor C, let him go!"

Seeing Betsy in her state of undress seems to fuel his anger further, as Danny looks positively furious.

"Of course you didn't waste any time, you dirt bag! I'll beat the crap out of you, you hear mate."

"Oh Betsy," Mindy sighs, "How could you be so naïve?"

"Nothing happened!" Betsy shrieks, tugging on Danny's elbow, "It was going to, but Doctor Re – Jeremy stopped."

"What?" Mindy and Danny reply in unison. Thankfully, Danny's grip had loosened, allowing Jeremy to push him off.

"Nothing happened," Jeremy gasps, "I'm not a complete scoundrel. But thank you nonetheless for your vote of confidence."

Standing off to the side, Betsy looks horrified, tugging anxiously at the hem of his shirt. Jeremy slides down the wall. Danny, despite everything, has the decency to look a bit sheepish. Mindy, unsurprisingly, just looks disappointed.

"So you're not secretly dating?" Mindy asks, arms folded.

"No," Betsy murmurs, "we only pretended so Peter's friends would stop hitting on me and because Maggie was there."

"Okay," Mindy sighs, rolling her eyes, "I get it. I watch television, I know how this trope works."

Danny frowns.

"I don't. How is it that Betsy is wearing only your shirt?"

Jeremy clears his throat awkwardly, while Betsy looks anywhere but at the three people in her apartment.

"Um, my dress was making it hard to breath?" Betsy's cover is barely believable and Jeremy throws his hands up in exasperation.

"Oh for the love of...do you want a play-by-play, Danny? Just…bloody hell, I like Betsy okay?"

Turning to face the subject of his declaration, he grabs her hands.

"I like you. Much more than I would normally be willing to admit in from of my partners here. I promise you my intentions are honourable, though I may falter on occasion, my moral compass does point north."

"Uh…" Betsy stutters, looking everywhere but at her bosses. She looks like she wants to run, despite the fact that they are in her apartment, in the middle of the night.

"But, if you don't feel the same way…" Jeremy lets his sentence trail off, feeling hopeful despite a very silent Betsy.

"I do!" she quickly exclaims. Calming down, she offers him a shy smile, "I like you too. Maybe too much."

"Ugh, you guys are so cute that I want to throw up," Mindy sighs, stepping past them as they continued to smile at each other, stupid grins on their faces.

"Danny, we're out."

"Thank God," Danny breathes, "I've never wanted to know this much about my co-workers' private lives, ever."

"Maybe we can pick up where we left off?" Jeremy grins, fiddling with the buttons on his shirt. Betsy giggles, a blush gracing her cheeks.

"Nope, shutting it down," Mindy grabs Jeremy by the arm, "Say goodbye, Betsy."

"Farewell, my lady," Jeremy smiles as Mindy and Danny drag him from the apartment.

It's freezing outside.

Betsy's still wearing his shirt.

* * *

As quick as the dreams start, they stop.

Well, except for one-

(Dinner for two, her hand in his, chaste kisses that promise so much more…)

The following day, he makes that one a reality.


End file.
